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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25506316">Prodigal Son</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ineffablebureaucracy/pseuds/ineffablebureaucracy'>ineffablebureaucracy</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Avatar: The Last Airbender</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Ozai is a serial killer, Prodigal Son AU, Quote: My Boy (Prodigal Son), THIS IS GONNA BE WILD, Zuko is a forensic profiler</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 05:07:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,155</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25506316</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ineffablebureaucracy/pseuds/ineffablebureaucracy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Zuko Caldera is a gifted criminal psychologist, using his twisted genius to help the NYPD solve crimes and stop killers, all while dealing with a stressed mother, a serial killer father still looking to bond with his prodigal son, and his own constantly evolving neuroses. Zuko’s only ally is his sister, Azula, a TV journalist who wishes her brother would take a break from murder and have a normal life. Unfortunately for his sister, the only way Zuko feels normal is by solving cases with the help of his longtime mentor, NYPD Detective Iroh. Iroh’s one of the best detectives around, and he expects no less from his team, which includes Detective Sokka, a born-and-bred New Yorker who questions whether Zuko is a psychopath himself.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Maiko - Relationship, Ozai &amp; Azula, Ozai &amp; Zuko, Ursa &amp; Azula, Ursa &amp; Ozai, Ursa &amp; Zuko, Zuko &amp; Azula, Zuko x Mai, Zutara - Relationship, not all together though, zuko x katara - Relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>128</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prologue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">PROLOGUE</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><br/>
Lights flashed into the house in the middle of the night, sirens now silenced, and Ozai, better known to the rest of the world as the Fire Lord- a notorious serial killer, knelt in front of his ten year old son, Zuko.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The man was handcuffed, smiling at the boy, who was very clearly unnerved. But his mother was busy talking to the detective, some man who had introduced himself as Iroh, to come get him. Even then, she was holding his little sister, Azula. Ursa wouldn’t bring the girl so close to Ozai, not now that they knew what he had done.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“Zuko, what I’m about to tell you, you need to remember,” Ozai began, and it pulled Zuko’s attention back to him- just as he’d intended. “No matter what happens, I want you to know that I will </span> <em> <span class="s2">always</span> </em> <span class="s1"> love you. Do you know why?”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Zuko shook his head, wanting to back away from Ozai. He was uncomfortable with this, and he wanted his mother.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Because you and I? We’re the <em>same</em>.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A chill ran down the boy’s spine as his father grinned at him, then was hauled to his feet and carried out of the house. Ursa finally walked over and put her hand on his shoulder, a sleepy Azula rubbing her eyes and then burying her face in her mother’s shoulder. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She didn’t know what was going on, but she saw her dad being taken away, and all she knew was she wanted to go back to sleep. Maybe when she woke up, she’d see this was all a bad dream. Or maybe she could see Mr. Boots. He would explain it all to her, just as he always did.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">As Ozai was put in the back of Iroh’s car for transportation, he grinned darkly to himself. His son still seemed so innocent, but he had already given Zuko the right... push, so to speak. In a matter of years, he imagined his boy picking up where he left off, the </span> <span class="s2">new</span> <span class="s1"> Fire Lord- his prodigal son.</span></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Beginning, Pt. 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Zuko and his team approached the cabin stealthily, guns at the ready in case they were attacked. He had led them straight to a notorious serial killer, and the plan? Zuko would go in alone, arrest the man, and bring him out. The team was there in case something went wrong. Which, as they’d all seen a few times with Zuko’s plans… things tended to go wrong.</p><p>It hadn’t taken long for the man they were after, a man called Han, to find Zuko, and he promptly hit him in the side with a taser. The man groaned as he hit the ground, and then was hit over the head with a baseball bat- knocked unconscious.</p><p>--</p><p>
  <em>"</em>
  <em>Dad,” Zuko said, looking up at his father. He was a child again, visiting his father in his prison cell. How had he gotten in there? “Can I ask you a question?” “</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Of course, Zuko,” his father replied. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Zuko blinked and looked down, clearly trying to figure out how to word his question. Eventually, he settled for asking, “Why did you do it? Why’d you kill those people?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Ozai had expected this from the boy, at some point. “Why did I do it?” he repeated, looking down at him curiously. He seemed to look thoughtful for a moment, before replying, “I don’t know. But, I’m going to have a long time to figure it out… Why don’t you help me? We can figure it out together.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>He didn’t really need any help knowing why he’d done it- he knew why. But if it would keep Zuko visiting, if he could continue influencing the boy… Ozai would gladly pretend to need help figuring it out. If there was anything Zuko couldn’t resist, it was a challenge. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“The kids at school all say you’re a monster,” Zuko said. “So do the people on TV.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Ozai sighed and chuckled a bit, the sound deep and a bit unnerving. Zuko began to feel a bit uncomfortable again. “Well, that couldn’t possibly be it, my boy,” he told his son in a falsely reassuring tone. “There are no such thing as monsters.”</em>
</p><p>--</p><p>Zuko woke with a gasp, his head pounding and hands tied together with a zip tie. That was… well, it was better than it could have been. He could have been dead, considering what he was up against.</p><p>A serial killer.</p><p>Ever since his father had been arrested, Zuko had decided he wanted to spend the rest of his life taking people like him down. At the moment, that consisted of working for the FBI, and finding himself captured by-</p><p>Zuko started as he looked up and saw the man he was after pointing a shotgun in his face, the sound of it being racked catching his attention. “Hey, hey!” Zuko exclaimed, lifting his bound hands in front of himself as if trying to make an attempt at defense. “Look, there’s no need for this, right? You don’t want to shoot me.”</p><p>“And why don’t I?” Han growled, shoving the barrel of the gun closer to Zuko. The detective tried to scoot back a little, though it was to no avail.</p><p>“Be-because!” he stuttered, trying to think on his feet- or rather, off his feet. It hit him suddenly. “Because of this!” He pointed to the scar over his left eye, something he was told he’d gotten years ago on a camping trip- it wasn’t an incident he recalled. “I’m not like your other victims, am I? They’re all perfect, and I realized- you’ve picked them all out like a butcher, haven’t you?”</p><p>Han frowned deeply, unsure of where exactly Zuko was headed with this, or what to make of it. But… he was right. If he killed the man in front of him, it would be a pointless kill. He was only interested in the finest, and the scar seemed to make him quite the opposite of that. His silence spurred Zuko into continuing to talk.</p><p>“See, that’s how I figured all this out,” Zuko told him. “You were raised in a slaughterhouse, right? It’s where you were made.”</p><p>“Where I was made?” Han questioned.</p><p>Zuko almost smirked. Clearly, he had him. Han was interested enough in what he was saying to have forgotten about shooting him, or murdering him in any other way. “No one’s born broken,” he explained. “Someone breaks us.”</p><p>Han pressed, “How?”</p><p>“Put that gun down, and I’ll tell you.”</p><p>Unfortunately, Zuko hadn’t responded to his team when they’d been calling, “<em>Caldera. Caldera, what’s your location? Are you with the hostages? Caldera!</em>” This lack of response, while he had been incapacitated, had moved them to send in the backup. They kicked down the door just as Han was putting down his gun.</p><p>One clear shot rang out, and Zuko flinched, fearing for a moment that Han had changed his mind and fired on him. But he hadn’t, and Zuko was still alive, in no pain. The same couldn’t be said of Han, who had fallen back to the ground, a bullet lodged in his heart.</p><p>“What were you thinking?!” Zuko demanded angrily, using his arms to push himself into a sitting position and turning to look at the sheriff who was standing there. The man was grinning as he looked at the dead serial killer.</p><p>“I did it!” he exclaimed proudly. “I’m a hero.”</p><p>“No, you’re a murderer, he was putting the gun down!” Zuko argued. The man came over quickly and cut the zip tie, releasing Zuko and helping him stand. “I was talking him down, why didn’t you wait?”</p><p>“Son, I just saved your life,” the sheriff replied.</p><p>Zuko suddenly hauled off and punched him right in the jaw, sending the man to the ground with the force of the hit. His own jaw was clenched tightly as he shook out his fist, and growled out, “I’m not your son.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The Beginning, Pt. 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Unfortunately, punching the sheriff had landed Zuko in the office of his Superior Officer, looking back and forth from her, to their boss, and back to her quite uncomfortably. After a few moments of tense silence, which his SO and boss were clearly expecting him to fill, he finally spoke up. “Okay, so, you don’t punch a cop,” he said. “Even if it’s not a written rule, it’s… definitely an unspoken one.”</p>
<p>“It’s… both,” his SO said, sighing tiredly. Clearly, she was used to going through situations like this with Zuko.</p>
<p>Their boss sighed as well, shaking his head as he looked at the file in front of him. “This file is… It’s bad, Special Agent Caldera. You have repeatedly ignored protocol, intimidated anyone who told you no, and you have managed to make every cop from here to Tennessee hate you.”</p>
<p>“There aren’t… I don’t think I-” Zuko began, but he was interrupted.</p>
<p>“We have sign off from the DOJ,” the man continued. “You’re fired.”</p>
<p>Zuko’s eyes widened, and his jaw dropped. “W-what?” he stuttered. “No, I can’t be! I found the killer, and I- I saved all those people!”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry, Caldera,” his SO said. “But… we’re afraid you may share some of your father’s psychological inclinations…”</p>
<p>Their boss- his ex-boss, now- began to list some of those off. “The complex PTSD, some narcissistic tendencies… You weren’t even worried that something could happen to you when you went in that cabin alone. You’re not invincible, but you consistently act like you are. Do you think you’re going to be fine, no matter what?”</p>
<p>“I was, wasn’t I?” Zuko pointed out. “I almost had him talked down! Your guy came in and shot him. Unnecessarily. Also, just so you know, the Fire Lord? He isn’t a psychopath, he’s a predatory sociopath. Not that you should know the difference, it’s only your <em>job</em>!”</p>
<p>“Caldera, I’m sorry,” the woman who had been his SO said. “The decision is final.”</p>
<p>Zuko huffed as he stood up, pulling the gun from his belt and slamming it down on the table. “Next time you call someone crazy and fire them, make sure they’re not armed first.”</p>
<p>--</p>
<p>
  <em>"I just keep thinking, what if psychopathy isn’t a disease. What if it’s a kind of genius?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Zuko looked up at his father from where he’d been writing in his notebook. He chuckled a little. “Genius?” he questioned. “Dahmer wasn’t that smart. He couldn’t even get his groceries in his fridge, he’d filled it up with too many body parts.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Ozai cracked a smirk and chuckled. “Those were the groceries,” he joked.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Zuko couldn’t stop from chuckling himself at the dark joke, as he it seemed he did share his father’s sense of humor. Not that he was comfortable with that, of course. He grimaced a little as he realized he had just been laughing with the man. “I should get going,” he said.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Oh, but it’s so fun to ‘talk shop’,” Ozai said smoothly, smirking a bit at the rather flippant way he referred to murder. “You know I enjoy these sessions.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Zuko grimaced once again. “We both know I’m only here because I’m intrigued by the criminal mind,” he pointed out, lifting a hand as if to tell Ozai to stand down.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Oh, please, you and I talk about murder like most people talk about sports,” Ozai countered. “It’s more than that.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Zuko hated that insinuation, and he clenched his fist. His hand was shaking.  It had been ever since he had understood the gravity of what his father had done, a few years after his father’s arrest.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>He chuckled. “Ah, it’s nothing,” he lied. That was one thing he was, ironically, grateful for. Zuko was a terrible liar, quite unlike Ozai. It was something that, while inconvenient at times, made him different from his father. It made him feel better about himself.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"You know, I’ve treated patients with psychogenic tremors before,” Ozai told him.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Zuko let out a long, heavy sigh. Something was weighing on him, and Ozai could tell. He’d always been able to read his son like an open book. “What is it you’ve got to tell me?” he questioned.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>The sigh Zuko let out then was shorter, more revealing that he just wanted to be done with the conversation he knew had to be had. “I applied to Quantico,” he finally confessed.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“The FBI,” Ozai mused, humming thoughtfully. “You don’t actually think they’ll trust you, do you? Your father’s a serial killer!”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"That’s not why I brought this up,” Zuko told him. “I brought it up to tell you that this…” He gestured vaguely around his father’s cell, referencing the visits. “…is over. I won’t be coming back.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Over?” Ozai asked. He frowned deeply. “It can’t be. You need me, my boy. I know you do.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“I don’t,” Zuko said solidly. “And I’m leaving. Goodbye, Ozai.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“You can’t leave,” his father said. It almost sounded like an order. The thought sent a chill down Zuko’s spine. “This isn’t what I want.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Perhaps that’s a good thing,” Zuko replied.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“No. You aren’t going to leave me.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Zuko frowned, turning to the door to leave.  But it was locked from the outside, and wouldn’t open for him. He turned from the door to look at Ozai. Something was very wrong. Why had he come to his father’s cell in the first place? He hadn’t seen him in ten years…</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“This isn’t right,” he said, shaking his head a little. “I walked out of here. I left you.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Ozai had stood, and was walking to him. He smirked cruelly at the college aged boy. “No. I won’t let you go, Zuko,” he told him. “Remember…” He put his hand on Zuko’s shoulder, and his son’s breath became more shallow, starting to come more quickly as fear built in him. “We’re the same.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Zuko screamed.</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. The Beginning, Pt. 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">Mornings had always been Zuko’s favorite part of the day. It was a new beginning, from whatever had been causing him trouble the day before. He could get up, do his stretches, say hello to his bird- a scarlet macaw he had named Druk- and have a nice mug of tea. It really was very relaxing for him.</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Oh! And of course, he would always read one of the daily affirmations from the little set his mother had gotten him. Ursa knew Zuko was likely to get rather down on himself here and there, and she’d thought they would be a great way to give him an extra boost going into his day. She, of course, had been right about them. She often was right when it came to things her son needed.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He smiled as he read over the words on the little card, mumbling them to himself. “I am willing to let go, and trust myself.” He nodded a little and repeated the words once more, internalising the message, before giving a more decisive nod. “Good one.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">The words did serve as a good boost, and he had even found he had more patience as he now walked along the river with his sister, who had just scoffed and given a roll of her eyes. Zuko had told Azula about how he’d lost his job with the FBI, and clearly, she disagreed strongly with the decision that had been made regarding his employment.</span>
</p><p class="p3"><span class="s2">“So, they fired you because of Dad?” she questioned, now looking at him with a lifted, frustrated brow. “That’s ridiculous. You two haven’t even seen each other in, what, </span> <span class="s3">years</span><span class="s2">? Do they think he’s been silently influencing you or something?” She scoffed again and shook her head. “They’re all idiots if they thought sacking you was a good idea.”</span></p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“I’m fine, ‘Zula,” he said, looking to her with a more placating smile. It wasn’t quite as sincere as his smiles had been up until now, however, and she immediately saw right through it. Azula sighed a little as she gave him her trademark look, which warned him not to lie to her.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“You’re having nightmares again, aren’t you?” she asked. But her question was posed with such sincerity, he didn’t quite have it in him to lie to her anyway. Even then, he didn’t have to speak to confirm her suspicions. She gave him a tight lipped smirk before she continued speaking. “You know, I think I was lucky. I don’t remember anything about Dad getting arrested. I just know what you and Mother have said happened.”</span>
</p><p class="p3"><span class="s2">“Well, </span> <em><span class="s3">I</span></em> <span class="s2"> remember you telling me everything was going to be okay,” Zuko pointed out. Azula had been far too young to understand what had happened, she hadn’t been exposed to the truth of what their father had done, hadn’t yet been hardened by the world treating her differently for it, and she’d just wanted her brother to smile again. She had changed a lot since then, Zuko had noticed. “Even when we knew it wasn’t.”</span></p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Azula rolled her eyes again. That was something else she seemed to do more and more frequently. “Well, I don’t actually think I was wrong,” she countered, side eying him. “Things turned out well enough, aside from you getting fired, but hey. I think this is going to be good for you. You can have a fresh start now. No more FBI, no more serial killers... If you’ve wanted to prove you aren’t our father’s son, congrats, Zuzu. You’ve done it. You can do literally anything else now.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“So you think I should take a break from murder,” he surmised, and she chuckled as her phone began to ring.</span>
</p><p class="p3"><span class="s2">“I think you should be </span> <em><span class="s3">done</span></em> <span class="s2"> with murder,” she corrected. “But I doubt you’ll take my advice.”</span></p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Azula answered the call and Zuko watched her as she talked quite professionally into her phone- a work call, then. Soon enough, she was hanging up, and he was watching her face closely.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Another ‘Azula Sozin exclusive’?” he questioned her, teasing slightly.</span>
</p><p class="p3"><span class="s2">“No, just some white collar crap,” she answered. It was a lie, Zuko could tell, but he didn’t push it. A car pulled up, one they both recognised, and she immediately turned to Zuko to reiterate something before they could be interrupted. “Remember. You are </span> <span class="s3">taking</span> <span class="s2"> a </span> <span class="s3">break</span><span class="s2">,” she said sternly.</span></p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Zuko chuckled affectionately at his sister’s seriousness, and nodded, smiling at her a little. “Thank you, ‘Zula,” he said sincerely.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">The man who had been driving the car that had parked beside them got out, just in time for Azula to walk off, though she gave him a polite wave, and he returned the gesture.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Detective Iroh didn’t know the girl horribly well, but he knew she was often with her brother, and he knew Zuko had made it a point to stick closer to her once she’d started her journalism career. The press had started off trying to tear into her about Ozai’s crimes, but with her brother’s patience and constant support, she’d toughened up, and grown to not care what they said. Iroh was glad to see the two still seemed close.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Caldera,” he greeted, approaching Zuko with a warm smile, and the younger man lit up brightly.</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Iroh?” he asked. “What are you doing here?”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Don’t you know it’s rude to slip back into town and not see any of your old friends?” Iroh quipped, and Zuko couldn’t help but laugh a little as the older man met him and greeted him with a happy, warm hug. However, he picked up on the distracted look in Zuko’s eyes, and frowned a little. “What’s wrong?”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Zuko sighed, and looked to where Azula had disappeared to, her words playing over in his head. ‘White collar crap,’ she had said... “My sister just lied to me,” he confessed to Iroh, who hummed and nodded thoughtfully. “Her autonomic tells gave her away.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“You mean a reporter lied to you?” Iroh asked, feigning surprise. “I can’t believe it.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Zuko sighed, and gave Iroh a pointed look. “She doesn’t want me to know she’s covering a murder,” he explained. “But, if she’s got an important enough murder to cover, then you...”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“I have one important enough to ask you to come in,” Iroh finished. Zuko grinned at the idea of what this likely meant. “I need a profiler.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He started back to his car, and Zuko followed him, even as he said, “You are aware the FBI fired me, aren’t you?”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">The only response he got from Iroh was a mischievous smirk, and, “It is a good thing I’m NYPD.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Zuko chuckled again as they both climbed into Iroh’s car, and the Detective started off to the crime scene he needed Zuko to provide his expertise on.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hello lovelies!! I just wanted to ask real quick for an opinion- do you guys like these like, kinda bite sized chapters (usually around 1k words)? Or would you rather I write longer chapters? If you have a preference, or are happy with either, please drop a comment so I have an idea of how to proceed! Thank you, and I hope you’re enjoying the story so far! I love reading the comments I’ve been getting :D</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. The Beginning, Pt. 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Victim’s name is Yorin Juki. Mayor keeps blowing up the phone, so... definitely a V.I.C.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Zuko looked to Iroh with a questioning gaze at what the woman leading them through the apartment building had just said. Iroh was quick to explain, “Very Important Cadaver. V.I.C.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Zuko gave a curt not and followed them along, listening to the further information from the woman who he figured must have been an officer working for Iroh.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Medical’s already been by, I’ve got the file here,” she said, and started to hand the file in her hand to Iroh. Zuko moved to take it from her, but she snatched her hand back, clearly used to using quick reflexes. She’d thought he was just someone Iroh had brought along for no reason, but apparently not... “Who is this?” she asked her boss.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Suki Kyoshi, this is Zuko Caldera- psychologist, forensic profiler, and... something of an acquired taste,” Iroh answered. He shot Zuko a teasing smile, while the latter replied with a sarcastic grin.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Suki sighed, but with this explanation, handed the file over to Zuko. He didn’t thank her, but instead walked straight over to where the body was, mumbling the information he read under his breath as he walked. “Yorin Juki, unmarried, rich...” His lips quirked up into a smirk, and he quipped to himself, “Ah, just my type.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He hadn’t noticed the other detective standing there just yet, who was not quite leaning against the desk in the room. Were they not in a crime scene, chances are he would have been. Said other detective spoke up when he heard the joke Zuko made.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That’s just not right,” he said.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Zuko looked up at him with a confused expression, and tilted his head just a bit. “Huh?” he asked, but before anything could be repeated, Iroh noticed the concern growing on his detective’s face, and quickly walked over to deescalate anything that could possibly escalate.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, who’s he?” the younger detective- who was really about Zuko’s age- asked Iroh with a lifted brow.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sokka, this is Zuko. Zuko, Sokka. You... might like each other.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Sokka scoffed a little and gave a roll of his eyes. “We’ll see about that.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Zuko was about to respond, but Suki approached the team, looking at Zuko expectantly. “So, you’re a profiler, right?” she said. “What happened here?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Zuko was immediately pulled away from any thoughts he might have been having about Sokka, as he turned his attention to the dead woman laying out on the floor. Sokka snorted at Suki’s question, and said, “Looks to me like she already filled out her profile.” Zuko listened, even if he did not answer immediately.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Instead, he crouched down next to the body, looking closely at her for any signs if injury, struggle, anything, and the tension in the air began to feel palpable as he did.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">This eventually led Sokka to question, “Um... what’s the problem?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Zuko grinned and chuckled a bit as he looked up at Sokka. “Oh, nothing,” he answered. “I just... I tend to think like the killer when I’m looking at a body. It’s kind of my thing.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Sokka seemed even more unnerved by this, and he frowned deeply. “You think like the killer?” he repeated slowly. His eyes flicked between Suki and Iroh. Surely he wasn’t the only one thinking this guy was nuts. Was he?</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Zuko smirked and, in lieu of a serious answer, snarked back, “It’s a gift.” He fell silent once more as he looked over her, and eventually gave a thoughtful hum. With a decisive nod, he said, “Yeah, Sanuk was right. Our victim was waiting on someone special.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“...It’s Sokka.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Was it a lover?” Suki questioned, ignoring Sokka’s correction to Zuko and moving to crouch down next to the new man on the scene.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Probably,” Zuko confirmed. “But, that’s not who showed up.” He rocked back so his weight was held solely by his heels, turning to point toward the front of the room. “See? She threw her champagne glass at him, probably the moment she saw him. So her lover doesn’t show, but our killer does. She wasn’t expecting him.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He stood up, moving around as if he were watching the crime play out in front of him. Sokka, Suki, and Iroh could only watch on curiously as he worked through his process- one they’d certainly never seen anything like. But, Zuko seemed to be working something out, so if it got them the lead they needed...</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“The fight didn’t last long, wasn’t a big thing, he got her down pretty fast,” he continued.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How’d he do it then?” Suki questioned.</span>
</p><p class="p2"><span class="s1">Zuko knelt back down at the victim’s head, using a gloved hand to open her mouth. Sokka scrunched up his nose. “She bit her tongue,” Zuko noted. “So... probably a paralytic drug. Trapped her in her own body.” He stood again as he continued thinking out loud. “She would have felt... </span> <span class="s2">everything</span> <span class="s1">. But knocking someone out is a thousand times easier than actually paralysing someone. This would have taken practise, equipment....” He froze, and the next words were spoken as if an epiphany. “Medical skills.”</span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“What is it?” Iroh asked in a concerned manner. Zuko’s heart was pounding in his chest, and the older man could tell that something wasn’t sitting right with him at all. In fact, he seemed greatly, </span> <em> <span class="s2">deeply</span> </em> <span class="s1"> troubled by whatever it was he was thinking.</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Zuko’s eyes closed as he let out a deep sigh. “I’ve seen this before,” he confessed. His voice almost sounded pained. “There’ll be an injection point into her iliac crest, one near her heart, and a burn to cover up both.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Sokka’s eyes widened in an almost panicked look as he asked, “How on earth do you know that?!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Zuko’s jaw clenched tightly, his right hand starting to shake, instinctively wanting to reach up to the burn scar on his face. “Our killer’s a copycat,” he answered. “Mimicking another serial killer.” Sokka tried to ask who, but Zuko wasn’t looking at him. He was looking Iroh dead in the eye. “It’s Ozai Sozin. The Fire Lord.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah?” Suki asked, finally standing and crossing her arms once more. “And you know this Fire Lord well?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Almost like he’s family,” Zuko said vaguely, and his eyes never left Iroh’s.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">On their way out, once Sokka and Suki had been left behind to oversee collection of evidence so it could all be taken away, Iroh kept glancing over at Zuko. He hadn’t seen him so shaken in a long while, and seeing him like this again bothered him quite a bit. “Zuko...” he began tentatively. “Are you alright?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Zuko didn’t answer him, lost in his own thoughts. Or at least, it might have seemed he was, to someone who didn’t know him. But Iroh did, and he knew Zuko needed to he coaxed a little more into talking about it. He’d never been one to open up easily, and Iroh doubted he’d change suddenly.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I worried a bit about bringing you in,” he confessed to Zuko. “I didn’t want to wake up any old demons...”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Zuko shot him a wry smile and answered, “Don’t worry, my demons don’t sleep.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Iroh sighed. “I can’t begin to imagine what you’re going through right...” Zuko interrupted him before he could finish.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“The killer is copying the Quartet, a series of four murders my father committed years ago,” he said. It was a clear message to Iroh- </span> <em><span class="s2">Please, I don’t want to talk about that.</span></em></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">So, Iroh silently agreed to drop that point. “We’ve only had three,” he replied instead.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Zuko made quick work of analysing what that meant, and voiced most detectives’ worst fear when working a case like this. “The killer isn’t done yet.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The two walked out to the waiting cabs in silence, where Zuko intended to catch one to get a ride home, but once they got there, Iroh stopped him. “Have you talked to him?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Zuko swallowed and sighed, looking out over the traffic driving through the streets of New York. He gave a small shake of his head. “Not in ten years,” he said. When he continued, he seemed to speak faster than he usually did, a different kind of urgency to his voice. It was almost as if he was trying to convince Iroh of something. “And I can’t go back there, Iroh. I can’t go back to him. It wasn’t a healthy relationship in the slightest.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m not asking you to,” Iroh assured him. “But... I do have a serial killer on my hands, and if you’re telling me he’s not done...?”</span>
</p><p class="p2">Zuko gave him a determined, set look. His mind would not be swayed. “I’ll start a profile.” A cab pulled up that could take Zuko, and he turned and climbed into it immediately, leaving Iroh to sigh and watch as the cab pulled out.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. The Beginning, Pt. 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Zuko was still pondering the strange case he’d been introduced to by the time he got home, trying to think of everything he needed to include in his profile. It might have been a bit obsessive, and he was aware of that, but there was nothing like a good murder case to put a little ‘pep’ in his step. And really, what was so wrong with that?</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Lost in his thoughts as he was, Zuko almost failed to notice the fact that the front door that led into his loft apartment was unlocked. Almost. His brows drew together in concern at the sight, and as he opened his door slowly, silently, he glanced up the stairs. There was no sign of breaking and entering, nothing there seemed out of place, and he shut the door behind himself just as silently as he’d opened it.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">His ascent to the main floor of his apartment began then, and he was careful to avoid any of the spots he knew were creaky, and would alert anyone who might still be in his apartment that he was home. At the top, he found that the door was wide open already, which only increased his concern. Who would be so open about having entered his apartment while he was away? Were they not expecting him back yet?</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Did they not care if he caught them?</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Zuko held his breath as he crept into the apartment, and his eyes began to immediately scan the room for whoever might have been there. They landed on a woman who stood at his counter, stirring a mug of tea. He let out a sigh of relief. So, it was just her.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Hi, Mom,” he greeted.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">The woman turned when she heard his voice, and smiled happily at the sight of her son. “Zuko,” she replied.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He stepped forward easily then and she met him halfway, embracing her son when she met him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“I’m sorry I forgot to call,” he began as he pulled back, already looking over her shoulder toward the tea she had been preparing.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Hm, yes, well, Azula already told me you got fired,” she commented. Zuko grimaced, looking at her as if he expected to be chastised for having lost his job. “Oh, no, I’m glad for it, honey. You can finally be done with all this morbid profiling.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Zuko sighed, and replied sarcastically, “Because I can’t drag our family’s perfect name through the mud anymore?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Ursa gave him a pointed look. “You made how you feel about ‘our family’s perfect name’ clear enough when you changed yours,” she said. “I never thought ‘Caldera’ was very good, but Sozin just wouldn’t do for you anymore, would it? At least we haven’t run from our family’s ruin.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“No, that would be impossible, wouldn’t it?” Zuko countered.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Another pointed look from Ursa revealed that she had understood what he meant by that, but did not intend to respond. “So, about your loft,” she said instead. He sighed and looked around it. “I’ve had Hama change your sheets, and wipe down your restraints. I also called your old therapist, and-”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Mom, it’s been great seeing you, but I have something I really need to do...” he interrupted, trying his best to get her out the door so he could focus on the profile. Normally, Zuko loved seeing his mother, but this was one of those times where he found himself simply too busy for it.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Seeing he was trying to usher her out, however, Ursa decided to just cut to the chase. “I know you haven’t been sleeping.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Zuko winced at that. Maybe he’d gotten some dark circles lately, but were they really so obvious? He hadn’t thought so...</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Ursa turned around and picked up the mug of tea she’d been preparing, and she handed it over to him. “Chamomile should help,” she said. As Zuko was taking it, Ursa added, “If it doesn’t, I have pills. I’d rather not share them unless it’s an emergency, though...”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Pills alone won’t fix what’s wrong with us,” Zuko said, giving her a slightly disapproving look and smelling the tea.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“They will if you take enough,” Ursa quipped.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Zuko made a funny face as he smelled the tea. Sure, it smelled like chamomile was supposed to, but... there was something else there. “What’s it laced with?” he asked his mother, only halfway joking.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">She gave him a knowing smile, and answered vaguely, “Love.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Zuko chuckled a little. “Oh, I’ve missed our talks,” he said, and sat the tea down on the dining room table to his left.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Ursa smiled a little more genuinely at that. “I’m having your sister over tomorrow for dinner. You should join us.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“I assume you don’t break into her place like this, do you?” he questioned.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Oh, of course not,” Ursa said. “Azula’s perfect. You’re my only concern.” She grabbed her purse as she spoke, taking her keys off the counter and starting toward Zuko. “Try the tea, turtleduck. It’ll help.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Zuko smiled as she reached up to lovingly ruffle his hair, and then she was out the door. He picked up the tea again and sniffed it. It was laced with a sedative for sure, even if he didn’t know which of them that was. With a sigh, he took a sip, and then mumbled to himself, “Alright. Time to get to work.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">It wasn’t until the next morning that Zuko would be able to get anything more concrete, though, about the case than he already had. Iroh had called him early in the morning, and told him to get down to the morgue. The pathologist had already done an autopsy, and she was ready to give her report.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">He’d gotten up and ready as quickly as he could, and hopped in a cab to meet the team at the morgue. Sokka and Suki still seemed relatively concerned and unnerved by Zuko’s presence, but they didn’t say anything about it.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2">“Mai, thank you for getting these done quickly,” Iroh said as he led Zuko inside the room. “I know these homicides were...”</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Really interesting, actually,” Mai interrupted him. She was the pathologist, Zuko realised quickly, and he paid close attention to what she was saying. “I only ever read about the Fire Lord’s tactics in textbooks. It’s cool to get to see them carried out in person.” The team was watching her expectantly, and she sighed, disappointed that they didn’t find it all as fascinating as she clearly did.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“So, the victims,” she continued. “Tox report says they were all injected with a different paralytic cocktail, and it shut all their bodies down one system at a time. Would have been agonising.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“It was,” Zuko spoke up, and she turned to look at him curiously. Sokka and Suki looked at him in a concerned way, and Iroh looked like he might have regretted bringing him in. “Well, I assume it was,” he corrected. To get everyone off that train of thought, he quickly handed a file to Iroh. “I have a profile.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Did you... sleep at all?” Iroh questioned him in both a suspicious and concerned manner.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Oh, I got six hours,” Zuko assured him. “...Three nights ago.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Sokka looked at Suki in an exasperated sort of way and murmured to her, “So, he’s the killer, right?” Suki agreed with him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Zuko had moved on to looking over the bodies himself, lifting up the sheets laying over them to do so. “Wow,” he mumbled to himself. “This suture work’s really good. These y-incisions... Seriously, good work.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Thanks,” Mai said, smiling at him just a bit. “You’re... not boring.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Trauma does that to you,” Zuko said with a chuckle.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Sokka turned to Suki once again to ask her, “What’s happening?” The banter between Zuko and Mai was starting to concern him even more.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Iroh, trying to get things back on track, asked Zuko, “What’s the main thought from your profile?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Zuko nodded, and started to walk around the room as he explained. “The killer’s going to be a serial killer superfan,” he began. “Someone who blends in easy. A psychopath.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Sounds like my ex,” Suki joked.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“He’s also inadequate.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Definitely my ex.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">Sokka snorted.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“He’s not able to craft his own murders, so he’s had to imitate the Fire Lord. His victims are all white, older, wealthy... and strangers. Nothing connects them. Except...” Zuko walked around the side of one of the corpses, and lifted her arm. On her knuckles, were heavy bruising, as if she’d been in a fight. “All three victims have this same bruising on their knuckles, which doesn’t match the Fire Lord’s method.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“So... maybe they tried to fight our guy off?” Sokka suggested, crossing his arms and leaning back against a table.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“No, these aren’t from that kind of fight,” Zuko answered. “My guess is a sparring match of some kind, probably. A lot of people don’t tape properly.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Exactly,” Mai agreed. Her eyes were a little wide, as if thoroughly impressed by Zuko’s analysis of the case thus far. “Yeah, I agree about the fighting, and the tape, and... everything, really. But, there’s something else. Those bruises don’t match the time of death. They’re from earlier. Three days, at least.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“So the women were fighting, but not on the night of their murder,” Suki surmised, and nodded a little.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“They were into that Rocky life, I got you,” Sokka said jokingly, but Zuko quickly brought them all back.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“We have three victims, all with bruising consistent with practise fighting. So... what if they had a trainer?” he suggested.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“And they all saw him,” Sokka agreed.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Professional trainer would have gotten paid,” Suki realised then. “I’ll track down the bank records.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">There wasn’t much more discussion, now a lead had been found, before the team filed out to get back to work. Mai, however, stopped Zuko on his way out. “Hey,” she said. “Who are you?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“Oh, I’m Zuko,” he answered. “Caldera. I’m the new profiler.” She nodded, almost skeptically, and crossed her arms.</span>
</p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s2">“You’re good,” she said after a few moments. “Keep it up, and you might not be so bad to work with.” Her lips curled up into a smirk for a moment, and then she was back to work, cleaning up from the investigation. Zuko let out a small chuckle, shook his head, and made to follow his new team.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. The Beginning, Pt. 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Gong Muoneng. He’s in Apartment J. All of our victims sent him a payment in the last month.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Sokka and Zuko nodded at Suki’s brief summary, and they approached the door of the apartment as quickly and quietly as they could. Looking in the windows as best he could without risking being seen, Sokka frowned. “Lights are all off,” he said.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Zuko frowned as well, and clearly seemed about to go into the building, before Suki stopped him and said, “Whoa, what are you doing? Iroh said to wait, he’s getting a warrant.” His answer to this was to pull out his phone, and start dialling someone. “You calling him?” Suki questioned.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No,” Zuko answered, and put a finger to his lips to indicate she should be silent. “Gong.” When hers and Sokka’s eyes widened, he whispered to them, “His number was in the file.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Maybe he’s available for a quick session,” Sokka snarked. Suki gave him a pointed look, and he fell silent.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The three of them waited, holding their breath, as they listened with their ears almost at the apartment door. If a phone rang, they’d have an idea of why. Or if Gong answered, even better. Unfortunately, Gong wasn’t answering, but it wasn’t long before they heard...</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <em>
    <span class="s2">Ring! Ring!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <em>
    <span class="s2">Ring! Ring!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“He’s inside,” Zuko whispered, and hung up quickly. He wasted no time in suddenly kicking the door open, causing Sokka and Suki to exchange a panicked look. </span>
  <span class="s2">What on earth was he thinking?!</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Sokka shrugged and called out, “NYPD!” into the apartment as the three entered, all of them with guns out, ready to fire at any given moment. After all, one could never be too careful in situations like this.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There was no answer, and for all intents and purposes, the apartment seemed empty. Empty of life, that was, aside from them. The furniture in the apartment was all wrapped in plastic, the windows covered up with... was that cellophane?The trio all found themselves highly unnerved, so much so that it took the bravest of the three to speak first.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Caldera, what is this?” Suki asked, looking to Zuko.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He answered her truthfully, “I don’t know,” as he continued looking around. Surgical equipment, chemicals, tools, electronics... “He’s building electronics, compounding drugs... He’s a lot more than just a copycat.” Suki and Sokka exchanged worried glances as Zuko continued, “More than a fan, too. And a lot worse.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Suddenly, from a bedroom to the side, they heard a muffled cry, like someone trying to call out for help. They abandoned the workstation they’d found to kick in the door, and what they saw startled them all.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There, bound and gagged and cuffed to a chair, was Gong himself. Suki recognised him from a picture she’d seen as she was digging up information on him. Before she could say this, he was letting out a panicked sound, looking behind them toward the door. When they all turned, gunshots rang out, and it was a scramble to the floor.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The shooter fled the scene immediately, with Suki jumping up and giving chase. “Stay with Caldera!” she shouted back to Sokka. He had started to follow her, but on her order stopped and turned to Zuko, who was already on his knees untying the gag.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why did Gong do this to you?” he asked the man as he pulled the gag from his mouth.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, I’m Gong!” the man exclaimed. “That guy’s a psycho! He tied me up and made me call them, set up the appointments.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Zuko nodded and pressed, “If you’re Gong, then who did this to you?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t know, I didn’t see his face!” Gong answered quickly. “Dude, I’ve been locked in this chair for four days! Get me out!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Zuko agreed quickly, “Right, yeah, of course,” and bent down to untie Gong’s ankles from the chair. Unfortunately, when he pulled the cord he’d been tied with away from the chair, they all heard a click, and a beeping started up.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, man...” Gong whined, with the voice of a man who thought this couldn’t get any worse.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It certainly could.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sokka, you see this?” Zuko asked, looking at the bomb. It was welded to the chair, which Gong’s handcuffs had also been welded to. One hand was tied similarly to his feet with a cord, but it was his left hand that posed a problem.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, I see it,” Sokka agreed, looking at the bomb. “Two minutes.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“</span>
  <em>
    <span class="s2">TWO MINUTES?!</span>
  </em>
  <span class="s1">” Gong shouted, and Zuko looked to Sokka in disbelief.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah. And he’s welded to it,” Zuko finished. The sound Gong let out was the kind that could only be made in pure terror.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Dude, he didn’t need to know that!” Sokka chastised Zuko.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well, he knows now,” was Zuko’s reply. He jumped up and ran back out into the main room, looking for anything he could use to break Gong out of the chair. What he found... It made his blood run cold, but what other choice did he have?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Somehow, watching Zuko run into the room with a panicked look in his eye and an axe in his hands wasn’t something Sokka ever expected to do. He decided in that moment to never expect anything in particular from Zuko.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sokka, kitchen,” he said, speaking faster than Sokka had ever heard. “Get as much ice as you can get, and get it in a cooler, fast as you can. Go!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There was no time for questions, unfortunately, so Sokka sucked it up and ran out into the kitchen, leaving Zuko with a now horrified Gong, who was starting to realise Zuko’s plan.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What are you doing...?” he asked slowly, nervously, and Zuko gave a nervous laugh.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m gonna chop off your hand.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“<em>WHAT?!</em>”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Zuko pushed the chair down so he could move Gong’s hand as far from the chair as he could- which wasn’t very far, or he’d have cut the handcuffs- before bringing up the axe. He hesitated a moment, and explained, “There’s really no other option, and uh... reattachment surgery has come a long way..?” Clearly, that wasn’t soothing the man who was about to lose his hand. “Deep breaths.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Sokka came back in right as Zuko raised the axe above his head- no turning back now- and tried to yell out, “Zuko, don’t!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <em>
    <span class="s2">WHACK!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was too late.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Outside, Iroh’s car skidded to a halt just as Suki came running back to the apartment building, both of them entirely unaware of the chaos unfolding inside. He jumped out and approached her quickly, and she didn’t wait before explaining, “I lost him. Sokka and Zuko are in there with-”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She was interrupted as the bomb went off, and both she and Iroh jolted and ducked down for cover. When the explosion had run its course, they both looked up at the apartment with horrified gazes. Iroh and Suki glanced at each other, and didn’t even take another moment before rushing toward the now burning building. The sound of an ambulance could be heard approaching from the distance.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Iroh! Suki!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The two addressed turned toward the alley, stunned to see Zuko and Sokka supporting Gong, who’s arm was wrapped in a towel drenched with blood, held tightly to his body. Zuko carried a cooler in his free hand. If his tone was anything to go by, he was quite unbothered.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Poor Sokka, however, appeared mortified. All the blood had even drained from his face, and he looked as if he may as well have seen a ghost. As they walked up to Iroh and Suki, he looked to the former and said, “Hey, Iroh? Your boy Caldera is nuts.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Iroh quickly helped take Gong from Zuko with Sokka, and the two started toward the arriving ambulance as Suki stayed back with Zuko.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Are you okay?” she asked him, her eyes wide with shock.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah,” Zuko lied easily. “Totally.” He seemed distracted, though, as he added, “Sorry, I should...” He patted the cooler as he finished up, “Give them a hand.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He departed for the ambulance, leaving Suki to ponder... </span>
  <em>
    <span class="s2">What in the world was wrong with Zuko Caldera?</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. The Beginning, Pt. 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Suki couldn’t make sense of Zuko. Somehow, he seemed to be both a brilliant detective, and yet have the capacity to be a perfect killer. If he were to murder, she got the distinct feeling he’d get away with it- and easily, too.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">What struck her as intriguing, however, was the way he paused when he caught sight of himself in the mirror, as he was working on the whiteboard. There had been a bit of blood that splattered across his neck when he cut off Gong’s hand, and it had dried there. The look on Zuko’s face as he studied it was one of horror.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When her phone rang, Zuko turned to watch her, trying to decipher what exactly the call was about. This soon turned to watching how she fiddled with something in her jacket’s pocket. However, she stopped as soon as she caught him watching that movement. So... she was self-conscious about it? After a few moments, she finally hung up.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That was Sokka,” she explained to Zuko. “Gong’s just gone into surgery. Apparently your aim was almost unnaturally precise.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Beginner’s luck, I guess,” he said anxiously, and gave a nervous laugh. Suki regarded him curiously after that. He wiped the blood off his skin almost subconsciously, and as she watched that, she began to play with whatever was in her pocket again. “Everything okay?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No,” she said. “I mean... Sokka still thinks you’re psycho, but I’m on the fence about it, I guess.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Zuko was caught off guard by that, and since he didn’t quite know how to assuage her concerns the more common way, he immediately went after it with logic. “I get it,” he said. “I take it your time in narcotics has made you suspicious?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Suki blinked a couple times in shock. She hadn’t expected that at all. “You... read my file?” she asked him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No,” Zuko answered, and he answered her truthfully. “Didn’t have to, though. You’re in recovery, right? Nicotine gum, but you have perfect teeth. You’ve never smoked. You also play with an AA chip, in your pocket. And, going off what I know of you so far... I think you’d do anything for your job- even if it meant getting hooked.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Suki was stunned for a moment, before she smirked. </span>
  <span class="s2"><em>Well</em>,</span>
  <span class="s1"> she thought, </span>
  <em>
    <span class="s2">two can play at that game...</span>
  </em>
  <span class="s1"> “What I can’t figure out is how you know so much about the Fire Lord,” she suddenly said. “I mean... are you just a fan of serial killers in general or is it because he’s local?” The brief expression of fear on his face made her decide to drive it home. “Why haven’t we gone to see Dr. Sozin himself? Maybe we should.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Zuko was too shocked to say a word. Fortunately for him, Iroh interrupted them.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“He won’t talk to cops,” he answered Suki. “And we need to focus on the killer who is not in jail. He will have one more target.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Zuko nodded, surmising easily, “His masterpiece.” When this just earned him a strange look from Suki, he elaborated, “It’s believed that the Quartet was an experiment, that the Fire Lord was looking for the most painful way to kill someone.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He continued, “I would imagine his motive was revenge.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Alright, what else?” Suki prompted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well, he’s probably white, maybe rich... bald, not a romantic,” he finished.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Zuko’s phone started to ring, but he ignored it in favour of listening to Suki’s question, “Wait, how do you know he’s bald?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t,” Zuko said, “but his psychology suggests some body dysmorphia. He hates his own body. But, we saw an imposing man at Gong’s, so I’m thinking bald.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His phone rang again, and this time he sighed. One glance at the contact, and he said, “I should take this.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Zuko stepped out of the room, and answered the ringing phone. “Hello?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hi, Zuzu.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He let out a sigh at the nickname. “Hello, Azula,” he said.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey,” she replied. “I need you at Mother’s tonight.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ugh, the petite soirée?” Zuko realised, running a hand through his hair. “I just made plans to burn the rest of my face.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Pleasant,” she snarked into the phone. “Look, show up, or I’m reporting tonight that the son of the Fire Lord is assisting the NYPD in a serial killer investigation.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Zuko froze. </span>
  <em>
    <span class="s2">How could she know that?!</span>
  </em>
  <span class="s1"> “Azula, are you blackmailing me?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I sure am, Zuzu,” she repeated, and he could just hear her smug grin through the phone. He couldn’t say no.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">So, that night, Zuko found himself seated across from his sister, their mother between them, eating soup. The soup was good, but he wasn’t having fun listening to his mother talk about some daughter of some... diplomat? she thought he should ask out. “I just think it would be nice with all this new free time you’ve got,” she was saying, and he immediately panicked on the inside at Azula’s smirk. That was never good.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Free time?” Azula questioned, tilting her head a little. Zuko tried to shoot her a pleading look while their mother wasn’t paying attention, but as always, Ursa missed nothing.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Zuko, I can spot a guilty look at a hundred yards. What is it, Azula?” she questioned. Azula was all too happy to hand the information over.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“He’s working for the NYPD,” she said, and while his mother narrowed her eyes at him,Azula just gave him a smug grin. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I didn’t want to disturb you,” he tried to defend against his mother.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Disturb me?” Ursa asked. “Zuko, I’m the least disturbed person you know.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Zuko started to chuckle, but when she didn’t laugh with him, his face fell. “Oh, you... you weren’t joking...”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Look, everyone calm down,” Azula said, now trying to play the mediator between them. “He’s just trying to help the NYPD find a serial killer.” Or, she was throwing him further under the bus. Lovely.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And how is that your concern?” Ursa asked Zuko, leaning on the table. She finally seemed to come back from the anger, and now seemed worried for her son.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Zuko sighed, and answered, “Because, he’s copying the Fire Lord.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Azula’s jaw dropped. Clearly, she hadn’t been expecting this. “What?” she asked, her eyes widening. “Is Dad a suspect?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No,” Zuko said quickly, then grimaced and corrected himself, “Maybe. ‘Zula, you can’t report this. It would cause a panic.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Good!” Ursa said. “People should be panicking.” Zuko sighed again, and suddenly a concern hit Ursa as she watched him. “Promise me you won’t see him.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I won’t,” Zuko promised. He took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly. “I can’t.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ursa watched him anxiously, and asked, “Are you sure?” She took a sip of her wine, and when Zuko didn’t answer, sat it down to continue, “He’d love that, you asking him for help. You can’t let him back into your life. Take it from me- he </span>
  <span class="s2">will</span>
  <span class="s1"> destroy you.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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